


What's Past is Past

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Not Famous, First Dates, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a date. It might be a first date, and it might be the first first date he's had in a long time, but it's just a date. Chris has been on dates. Chris has been on lots of dates. He knows what a date normally consists of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Past is Past

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my best friend in the world's birthday. Happy birthday, Becca. <3
> 
> (Also, technically a sequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/790207), but can certainly be read as a stand-alone.)

Chris stares at his reflection in the mirror, and exhales slowly to calm himself.

It's just a date. It might be a first date, and it might be the first first date he's had in a long time, but it's just a date. Chris has been on dates. Chris has been on lots of dates. He knows what a date normally consists of.

And it's not like it's a blind date. Okay, so he's only met the guy once, but he'd been nice, and charming, and funny. Chris had wanted to go on a date with him when he'd asked.

Now, as he looks in the mirror, he wonders if he's really ready to start dating again. Maybe it's too soon. Sometimes it feels like it's too soon… But, really, when will it not be too soon anymore?

Maybe he just needs to take the plunge.

He checks his hair one more time, straightens the fall of his collar, and grabs his car keys and wallet.

*

It's a cute little Mexican restaurant, close enough to the water that there's a bit of a cold breeze, but off enough main roads that Chris can find parking without having to resort to using the valet.

He's a little early, mostly because he's nervous. If he'd stayed home any longer, he probably would have changed his clothes (again) and fussed with his hair until it was nowhere near presentable. He'd taken the long way there, and he likes to be punctual.

Not that it will really matter. People don't tend to take these things as seriously as he does. But at least there will be complimentary chips and salsa, and he'll be able to order and sip a Diet Coke while he no doubt waits.

Shit. He hopes this isn't the sort of place that takes reservations—he hadn't bothered to ask.

The lighting inside is dim and incredibly intimate, and the restaurant is filled with the soft strumming of guitar. Chris has never been here before, but he already likes it.

The host is looking at him, eyebrows raised expectantly, and Chris realizes with a sudden thinking feeling, _I don't even know his last name_.

"Chris!"

Chris's eyes widen as his name is called, and he turns just in time to see Darren standing up from a table and wave at him. Darren, who is already there, and already seated, and already nearly done with whatever drink he's ordered. Chris gives the host a polite smile, and then works his way over to Darren, unable to get the surprise completely off his face. As he gets closer, Darren's face blooms into a smile that makes his eyes crinkle up at the corners.

"Hi," Chris greets, feeling suddenly bashful.

"Hey, I—Oh." Darren seems to snap back for himself as Chris reaches for his chair. "Here, let me."

Normally, Chris probably wouldn't freeze with shock as Darren hurries around the table and proceeds to _pull out his chair_ , but he does. Because there's nothing normal about it. Chris has been on dates, yes, but he's never had anyone pull his chair out for him before. He looks at Darren in awe, not really quite sure what to make of him.

"Your chair, good sir," Darren says, his voice just shy of a British accent, and a small, surprised giggle escapes from Chris's lip as he sits down and Darren pushes him in.

Chris has never been the sort of boy who dreamed of an actual Prince Charming—he hadn't wanted to ride off into the sunset on the back of someone's noble steed. He had never imagined finding someone even remotely prince-like, hadn't expected someone to offer him a jacket when he was cold, to hold doors open for him, to pull out his chair. Chris doesn't _need_ those things, but… That doesn't mean it isn't nice when they just happen.

"Am I late?" Chris asks, watching as Darren sits down and appreciating his choice in outfit. Darren looks up in surprise, and then looks a little embarrassed as he shakes his head.

"No, I was just a little early, I guess." Darren shrugs it off, but Chris feels a part of him warm up at the thought of it. Was Darren nervous? About a date with _him?_ It… It doesn't make sense. "Diet Coke, right?" He asks, as the girl who must be their waitress walks up, and Chris nods dumbly.

"I—" Chris laughs awkwardly, shaking his head as if it might dispel all of the disbelief he's suddenly feeling. "How do you remember that? We had lunch _once_."

"I just have a good memory when it comes to that sort of thing," Darren replies with a warm smile, and he reaches across the table to touch the back of Chris's hand briefly. The skin feels like it tingles for a few moments after he pulls back. "Do you like guacamole?" Darren asks, eyebrows raising inquisitively, breaking the moment before it can get too big and heavy for the first-date-atmosphere. "They have _amazing_ guacamole here," Darren enthuses.

And Chris laughs—can't help it. It's like Darren is talking about meeting the Queen of England, not guacamole.

"Sounds great."

*

"Okay, um… I don't like to use those hand soaps that turn into foam," Chris says, smiling as he sips his soda and Darren laughs as if he doesn't quite believe him.

"But, I— _why?_ That is the weirdest fucking thing I've ever heard." Darren is still laughing, but it's not that kind that leaves a stinging hurt behind. Chris shrugs.

"I just _don't_. I like to work it up into a lather myself, okay?" And even Chris is realizing how ridiculous it is, covering his mouth with his hand as Darren continues laughing.

"That is so endearingly weird." Darren's eyes are soft as he grins at Chris, and Chris has to look away, eyes inspecting the table cloth.

"Your turn."

"Right, my turn, um… I collect records."

"Oh, come on, that answer is _cheap_. I tell you my weird soap thing, and you give me that?"

"I do!" Darren defends.

"Yeah, but people probably know about that, you totally just broke the rules of the game."

"No, no, hey, listen." Suddenly, Darren is picking up Chris's hand, and Chris is instantly silent. "My friends and shit, they know I _like_ records and that I _buy_ them. Occasionally. Okay, so it's more like… Six, and not really a collection, but I'm starting to collect them."

"You dirty hipster," Chris accuses with a laugh at the end, and Darren grins.

"Does this mean there's no second date?" Darren hedges, and Chris's mouth falls open, because normally that isn't something he has to decide so soon. They haven't even gotten their food yet. But… It's not exactly like Chris is having a bad time. So far, it's probably one of the best first dates he's ever been on, _easily_ in the top five.

"It's endearingly weird," Chris counters back, evading the actual question, but it still makes Darren smile, anyway.

*

"I never drink on the first date," Darren tells him, as Chris scoops up some of his rice. "Like, I get it can take the nerves off, or some shit like that, but first—the nerves are a part of it. I think the nerves help make up that edge that is necessary for a first date. But if I'm being honest, it's mostly so I don't make an ass out of myself."

Chris laughs quietly around a mouthful of food, fist tucked against his lips as he focuses on trying to swallow and not simultaneously choke.

"And here I thought it's because you drove here and were being responsible," Chris replies, leaning his chin on his hand and momentarily disregarding his rather delicious dinner. He's never been to this restaurant again, but _god_ , he already wants to come back.

"See, but that totally plays into it. Say I did drink, got a little woozy, who knows, and you, being the dashing gentleman that you are, can't in right conscience let me drive myself home." Chris nods. "Well, then I seem like a douche, because then you have to drive me home. Maybe you'll think that I think it's going somewhere, when it's actually not. Or maybe you think that I always act this way."

"Really? Even if I _offer?_ "

"Even if you offer. Driving home should not be a first date obligation. This isn't high school, where one of us doesn't have a license."

Chris doesn't say that he never dated in high school. It isn't exactly first-date information, after all.

"I'm assuming you have much more logical reasons for not drinking on the first date?"

There's the fact that he's driving, but Chris knows it's more than that. He knows how he is when he drinks, how easily it gets to him and the kinds of things he says, or worse, does. He remembers all of the first dates that turned into only dates, because alcohol was involved.

"How do you know it's not for the very same reason?" Chris counters, and for just a second, it looks like Darren is going to rib on him about not actually answering. But he doesn't.

"Well, I can't hold it against anyone who doesn't want to appear like a dick." Darren holds up his glass and grins. "How's your dinner?" He asks, taking a sip of his soda, and Chris smiles.

"It's delicious."

"Awesome. Here, try mine." Darren skewers a piece of meat on his fork and holds it across the table, and Chris feels a flush up his neck as he leans in and pulls it off with his teeth.

" _Wow_ ," Chris moans as he swallows.

"I know, right?"

And Darren launches into another story that he must have somehow been reminded of, and Chris eats his own food and listens. He's not keen on sharing too much of his own yet—Darren's noticed, and either he doesn't mind or he just doesn't want to push Chris. He can work with that.

*

It's colder when they leave the restaurant, and Chris realizes, finally, how long they were there.

"Shit, it got cold," Darren mutters, rubbing his arms, and Chris steps closer to him without thinking about it. Darren looks surprised, but pleased, and then pulls Chris's arm through his as they start to walk away from the restaurant.

"Did you valet, or…?"

"No way. I'm parked around the corner."

Darren grins, and pulls Chris a little closer as they head down the sidewalk.

"Cool, me too."

It's the first time since Chris has got there that they're really quiet, but it's nice. It's late, but LA still buzzes around them, the same way it always does, and Chris feels light on how _well_ their date has gone. He didn't know that first dates could be that way.

He might find the silence soothing, but it isn't long before Darren starts talking again, and it makes Chris smile. It's not even that Darren likes talking about himself, necessarily—he's laid openings in every track of conversation, an invitation for Chris to jump in if and when he wanted to. Chris rarely took them, and maybe Darren looked a little disappointed by it, but he hadn't been discouraged and that had been nice.

It makes Chris want to tell him why he's so cautious, what he's been through. Doesn't Darren have a right to know what he's getting into? Chris isn't broken beyond repair, but he's damaged. And it's not like he expects this thing with Darren to grow wings and take off, but… Chris wants it to.

"I—"

"Weather like this always reminds me of Christmas," Darren says. Chris remembers that he said he grew up in San Francisco—a city Chris has dreamed about living in, but another place that doesn't exactly have white Christmases. "Shit, you know how like… Everyone watches certain things during the holidays?"

"Harry Potter," Chris says, almost instantly, and Darren beams at him.

"Unconventional, but not any less awesome. I—okay, you've seen Gremlins, right?"

"Yes…? Oh my god." Chris's face cracks in a grin, already knowing where Darren is going with it. "Well, it _does_ take place during Christmas," Chris points out, as Darren gets ready to defend himself, and Darren comes to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

"I could kiss you for that," he says, and Chris blinks in surprise. He swallows.

"Or… You could kiss me because that's my car right there." Chris motions with his head. "And because it was a really great date, and because you want to do it again."

Darren seems honestly surprised, and Chris can't really blame him—it's the most outgoing he's been all night.

And maybe there's still a part of Chris that thinks he should say something, but what exactly is he trying to do? Warn Darren? Away from what? Him? He doesn't actually want that… He wants _this_. He wants to go out with Darren again. And he wants Darren to kiss him.

Fuck what some other guy did to his heart.

"I think I can do that," Darren whispers, and he cups Chris's cheek with his free hand and kisses him. It's warm, and it tastes just a little bit like the fried ice cream Darren had insisted they shared. It's a soft but not boring press of mouths, their lips slotted together and then Darren's are moving against his in a motion that's just shy of sucking, turning one long kiss into several slow, lingering ones.

It leaves Chris feeling breathless and hot all over.

He doesn't even realize that he has the fabric of Darren's shirt balled up in his fist until they're pulling apart, his head clearing slightly even as Darren's nose brushes against his.

"Do you have any rules against multiple kisses on the first date?" Chris asks, quietly. He feels Darren exhale against his lips in a breathy laugh.

"No. Not at all."

"Good."


End file.
